


Nothing More

by thisoneworkismybaby (Briginator)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Miscommunication, Pet Names, Soldier doesn't understand German, a lot of internal no homos, i didn't expect it to get this fluffy and i'm the AUTHOR, incredibly specific references to 70's pop culture, no typed accents (you'll have to imagine them yourself), nor does he try, specific descriptions of Medic's thicc German accent, specifically German miscommunication, strange metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briginator/pseuds/thisoneworkismybaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something that was supposed to be no more than an accident turned into an inside joke. At some point, that inside joke turned sincere, and two teammates were bonded just a bit more than the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

At first it was an accident.

You see, during the war, when Soldier would be sitting inside being treated for battle wounds, it was always a pretty nurse patching him up. Women young and old with their hair long pulled back professionally behind stark-white caps. Their accented voices ranging from transatlantic to Midwestern or southern. Patriotic and willing to serve their country any way they can.

When addressing such a nice lady, Soldier would always throw in a "thank you," as a show of appreciation. Being ever the charmer, if he thought he had even the slightest chance with her, he'd add a "sweetheart," or a "cupcake," and hope they'd remember him for it. Though that wasn't always the case, as a quick, simple "sweetheart," would do when her name would slip from his mind.

It was a habit, nothing else to it.

Working for Mann Co., the RED team was just men, one of each class.

At base, everyone ignored each other until necessary. Most conversations were out on the field, in the midst of the sounds of gunfire and their other teammates shouting. Plans were made up on the spot, out in the open, in plain language where the enemy team could intercept and work against it without a problem. Completely disorganized.

And Soldier's old habit of calling his medical saviors "sweetheart," lay dormant in the years between the end of the war and the start of his new job, just under the surface. Out of sight, out of mind. Like the old magazines you stash away instead of throwing out when you're done with them.

However during a move or a particularly deep clean, you'll get around to those magazines eventually.

Maybe not a perfect metaphor, but an accurate one to compare to the day out on the battlefield when a "Thank's for the aid, sweetheart," slipped out as Medic fired the healing beam at him. Medic was certainly not one of those pretty nurses, but that didn't make his appreciation any less valid. Naturally, Medic was a bit put off by being called something so unprofessional, but didn't know how to respond otherwise.

Soldier simply shrugged it off with a "Sorry, force of habit," before the doctor could say anything in return, rocket jumping away quickly to diffuse the situation. Who could argue with that?

 _'There's nothing habitual about calling another man "sweetheart"!'_  Soldier thought to himself a little while after as he soared above a ruthless Sentry gun. He shook his head as he hit the ground, deciding to just ignore it for now. No sense in making a big deal about it. And hey, recalling the puzzled look Medic gave him made Soldier chuckle a bit.

He'd have to work on breaking this ridiculous habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, author here! This is my first TF2 fanfic, and the first actual fanfic I've properly posted on AO3. I wrote this over the course of 3 days on a trip, because I love these two and there's not enough love for Fruit Scones. I'm currently in the process of breaking it into chapters and editing it, so the rest should be up shortly! I hope you like it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Meet The Medic and everyone getting their Übercharge-capable hearts.

The next time _technically_ wasn't his fault.

The weeks went by quickly, and after more and more missions, RED was starting to feel more like an actual team. A proper squad with their own code and battle plans. They'd loosened up in their time together, and Soldier would even go so for as to say that they had become friends.

At the time of their monthly checkup, Soldier was sitting outside beside his closest comrade, Demoman. He and Demoman were best buddies, bonded over a shared love of explosives and familiar drinking songs.

"-And then I said to him; _'well you know what, Monty? I've been shagging yer wife!'_   Oh man, the look on the poor sod's face was priceless, I tell ya!" Demoman cackled at his story, slapping his leg.

Soldier laughed, nudging him in the arm. "Ah man, next thing you'll be saying that's how you lost your eye!"

"As a matter of fact-"

Medic interrupted their chummy story-swapping session before Demoman could continue. "Herr Demoman, you're up next," he said gravely, the light in his eyes not at all matching his dark tone.

Reluctantly, Demoman stood up and looked Soldier dead in the eye. "Pray for me."

Soldier nodded seriously, equally grave.

There were about twenty, scream-filled minutes before Demoman hobbled out of the infirmary clearly sedated. Medic stood cheerfully behind him with his hands clasped together, looking pleased with his work.

Demo gave Soldier a dazed thumbs up and a lopsided grin before moseying down the hall to his chambers.

Soldier looked from Demoman, who was struggling to pull open a push door, to Medic who stood in the doorway looking more and more impatient. "Your checkup won't start itself," The doctor insisted, peering over his glasses down at Soldier.

Soldier stood up, dusting himself off and straightening himself out before walking into the infirmary.

"Herr Soldier, take a seat," Medic gestured to the operating table, pushing up his glasses with one hand and picking up a clipboard with the other.

Soldier obeyed, sitting on the edge and swinging his feet back and forth under the table. "So long as you're not taking my kidneys and selling them on the Communist black market!"

Medic stared blankly at him. "That's," he started, peering over the clipboard at Soldier. "Oddly specific... Has this ever happened to you, Soldier?"

"Well, no," Soldier replied. "But I don't know what happens when the lights go out and I'm strapped to the table! And I for one would rather have my organs inside my body!"

Medic laughed. "Oh, no need to worry about that. I'm no communist and I won't be poking at your insides today." His statement was simultaneously comforting and unsettling.

Soldier crossed his arms, unconvinced.

"So, onto your heart," Medic continued as if that last conversation didn't happen at all. "The Übercharge has not caused any complications?" He asked, pacing in front of Soldier. "Irregular heartbeat? Fatigue?"

"No, sir!"

This was Soldier's response to each of the symptoms Medic checked off the list of possible complications that came with popping Übers on a regular basis, and even some impossible ones such as "sausage fingers" and "abduction by aliens".

"Wünderbar!" Medic set the clipboard down on the table and rushed to the back to get something.

It was in that moment when Soldier understood why Demoman had screamed so much.

Medic returned with a comically large syringe. It was no Flintstones size, but it was just large enough to strike fear into Soldier's heart.

"Oh, don't make that face. It's Just a booster shot, no need to be so tense," Medic explained, giving the needle a few flicks for good measure. "If you're all tense, it will only hurt more," the only way to describe his tone of voice would be teasing.

Soldier grimaced and rolled up his sleeve so Medic didn't have to touch him unnecessarily.

Medic smiled. _"Sehr gut."_  

Soldier assumed Medic appreciated it. Sometimes he could make sense of the fragments of German that Medic would splice into his sentences, but he couldn't be too sure.

"You're a war veteran, am I correct?" Medic asked as he hovered over him.

"Yes, sir!"

Medic wiped the spot on Soldier's arm where he would be giving the shot. "Which war?"

"Viet--"

Medic gave him the shot while he was mid-sentence.

"Thank you for your service," He said as he ditched the needle.

"What about you, doc? You been in any wars?" Soldier asked, just wanting to make conversation.

Medic cringed, forcing a smile. "I guess you can say that,:" He answered, hoping Soldier would drop the subject.

Soldier squinted suspiciously at Medic, silently prodding him to elaborate.

"Okay, okay," Medic sighed. "Yes, I was in Germany during the war. But I didn't exactly... fight, per-say."

It took a moment for Soldier to put it together. "Oh. Sorry, Doc, didn't mean to bring up anything painful." He said apologetically.

"No worries, you didn't know," Medic replied, metaphorically sweeping the uncomfortable situation under the rug. He clapped his hands together, switching back to his usual tone of voice.

"Now, the side effects are a bit different for everyone," Medic explained with a shaky hand gesture. "If anything happens, you know how to get my attention."

Soldier nodded, his head suddenly starting to feel a bit fuzzy. "Thanks, sweetheart!" 

There it was again.

Medic froze in the middle of removing his gloves. "What did you just call me?" He asked with a laugh.

"Well, um, I think I maybe-could have-possibly just called you sweetheart," Soldier babbled, standing up. "It's what you say to sweet nurses who heal you!"

"Nurses?" Medic raised an eyebrow. Technically he wasn't _legally_ a doctor in this country, but the association with nurses?

Soldier blushed. "When they're really pretty and you forget their name, sweetheart does the trick real nice!"

"You think I'm pretty?"

"I don't think you're... _not_ -pretty?" Why did he say that?

Medic scratched at the back of his head, "Thank you, I think?"

They stood in silence for a long moment.

"You're welcome..." Soldier replied, a bit softer than usual. He turned and left, feeling the tension growing thicker between them. "Goodnight, Doc!"

"Goodnight," Medic called after him. His eyes lit up as he got an idea.

"Schatz!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solly was in Vietnam because it fit the timeline, and Medic is/was not a Nazi.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, this time he did it on purpose.  
  
After the last time, he'd had thoughts that never occurred to him before. Sure, he liked Medic before, he was a part of the team after all. But Soldier noticed his thoughts of Medic were quite different from those of his other teammates.   
  
At first he waved it off as a side effect of the shot, Medic did say it affected everyone differently. Yet even days later he was still having these... thoughts.   
  
Whenever he'd look at Medic, he couldn't help his mind from wandering, thinking about looking into those piercing blue eyes. Thinking about how his accented voice would pronounce not just his class title, but his real name. Thinking about how their hands would fit nicely together. Thinking about how gentle those hands would be as they-   
  
_'Not now, thoughts! I'm busy!'_

On the job, he was able to cast them aside like a good soldier, focused on his task, working with his team. He'd only let himself get lost in daydreams after-hours.

* * *

 

That evening he walked into the common room to find Medic lying face-down on the couch, probably exhausted. He was still in most of his work clothes, with the exception of his coat which had been discarded unceremoniously in a sad little pile beside him.

Soldier didn't blame him. First day after getting a new medigun, and he'd had to go after Scout who'd gotten out of his sights running like a bat out of hell with the other team's Intel.   
  
Then, after being shot down immediately, because any good team strategy involves taking out the Medic, Soldier and Demoman has insisted that Medic travel with them instead. Because of course they were cooler and could show him "how to live," as they had put it.   
  
Of course that meant rocket and sticky jumping.   
  
_'Poor Medic,''_ Soldier thought, heading to get two glasses out of the cabinet.   
  
"You want a drink, Doc?"   
  
Medic responded with a groan and lazy thumbs up, not lifting his head from the throw pillow he'd buried his face into.   
  
"What do you take?" Soldier hoped he wasn't some snooty wine drinker like Spy.   
  
Medic lifted his head so Soldier could actually make out what he was saying. "I am German, you _schnitzel_ , what do you think I drink?"   
  
Soldier chuckled good-naturedly, grabbing a beer bottle with what he assumed was a German label. He brought everything to the coffee table as Medic propped himself up.   
  
Soldier sat down and cracked Medic's beer open first, pouring it slowly into the glass. "Tell me when to stop," He told Medic cheerfully.   
  
Medic just stared with half-lidded eyes at the glass as a layer of froth started to form at the top, resting the tip of his finger on the edge of the glass to keep it from overflowing.   
  
"Tell me when!" Soldier reminded him.   
  
"..."   
  
"Anytime now."   
  
"..."   
  
"Rea--"   
  
Medic finally spoke. "I will say when, when I want to say when."   
  
The bottle was drained and set to the side, and Medic waited patiently for Soldier to finish pouring his own drink.   
  
When Soldier was done pouring, he held his glass up to clink it against Medic's.   
  
"Cheers!"   
  
_"Prost."_   
  
Medic nodded and made eye contact as their glasses touched. Soldier wished he could stare into his eyes forever. Wait, what?   
  
After his first sip, Medic relaxed back down into the couch, relishing in being able to take a break for the first time in awhile.   
  
"Busy day, huh?" Soldier stated the obvious, just wanting to make some casual conversation with Medic. He loved the man's accent. The occasional unnecessary "sch" sound on a simple "s", a hard "z" replacing the "th" sound on what seemed like every other word. Soldier could listen to Medic talk for hours.

That's normal, though. That just meant he found Medic an engaging and interesting person.  
  
Medic sighed and gave a tight-lipped smile. "Indeed it has been," he laughed humorlessly. "Next time, tell me before you shoot at my feet. I doubt that was any fun for you."   
  
"Your screams didn't exactly keep us incognito," Soldier laughed, throwing an arm around Medic's shoulders. "No worries, Doc, you hardly get enough credit for some of the nonsense around here!"   
  
"Aww, really?" Soldier thought Medic was just being sarcastic until he looked over and saw the small smile on Medic's face. "You really mean that?"   
  
Soldier continued, wanting Medic to know just how much he lo--appreciated. He appreciated Medic. "Absolutely, I think we all need to be a little more grateful to the guy who keeps us all in tip-top shape!"   
  
Medic flushed, looking down and smiling. "Thank you, Soldier," he said softly, fidgeting in Soldier's grip. "It's always nice to hear 'Good job' or 'Great work' sometimes."   
  
"No problem, sweetheart!" There it was again. Goddamn it. This time Soldier just prayed that Medic would ignore it. "Just stating the truth."   
  
"Oh, are you still going on with that nickname, Schatz?" Dammit. Wait, "Schatz"? That was new. Must be something in German. Was Medic insulting him? It must be. He'd never heard him call anyone else that.   
  
"Uh, I guess..." Soldier pulled his arm off of Medic. "I can stop if you want."   
  
"No, you don't have to," Medic grabbed Soldier's arm and put it back over his shoulders.   
  
_'He must be drunk,'_ Soldier thought.   
  
"I think it's cute."   
  
_'Definitely drunk.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soldier: Wow it seems like the Doc genuinely enjoys my company and talking to me  
> Soldier: Nah, he's probably just drunk and secretly hates me  
> Me: (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻


	4. Chapter 4

After their conversation, Medic had begun calling him _‘Schatz’_ first, on purpose even, as opposed to Soldier letting 'sweetheart' slip on accident. Medic seemed to be enjoying it, so with all that clear, Soldier had lost count of how often he’d called him "sweetheart". 

It was a joke between them, nothing more.

Something about the way Medic would say ‘Schatz’ with an almost… genuine smile, really unsettled Soldier. How could he be so hurtful to him with an expression like that?   
  
At least Soldier thought it was hurtful. But he couldn't be 100 percent certain, since he didn't speak German. As he thought more and more about it, maybe Medic had given him a cute nickname as well.    
  
Unlikely. There's no way that Medic would do that for him. He was married to his work. His life revolved around his gross organs and his doves. He had no time for feelings, or Soldier at all.   
  
But Soldier could dream. And dream he did.   
  
"Aye, don't let it get you down, lad," Demoman patted Soldier on the back. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you."   
  
"You don't speak German, do you? He's calling me 'Schatz', Tav! ‘Shatz!'”

Demo thought about it for a bit, drumming out a rhythm onto the table in front of them. 

“Did you ever listen to his tone? That's usually a tell,” He suggested, pulling a canteen out of his coat and handing it to Soldier. “Don't you think if he hated you, he'd be more obvious?”

“You'd think that's how it'd work, huh?” Soldier took a swig, nodding a ‘thank you’ and passing it back. “The worst part is, I think I _like_ him!”

Demoman gasped. “You don't mean…” He followed suit by making a heart with his hands.

Soldier nodded, unable to meet Demoman’s gaze.

“Wow…”

“I know.”

“And nobody else knows?” Demoman asked skeptically, his own observations this past little while being confirmed. 

“As far as I know, and I like to think I've been pretty obvious about it!” Soldier threw his hands in the air in frustration.

They sat in silence for a bit.

Demoman broke it. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“Directly? I don't know! What if it throws everything out of whack?”

Demo waved him off. “I'd be more concerned about if you wanted kids. God knows what he'd cook up in that lab of his!” he laughed.

“Easy there, Sally, nobody's talking about kids!” Soldier blushed and tried to shrink under his jacket.

“Yet,” Demoman added, booping Soldier on the nose.

"At all." Soldier corrected, throwing in a glare.   
  
"Alright, alright," Demoman raised his hands in uninterested surrender. "I still think you're worrying about nothing, even if he doesn't want all the-" he made his hands into puppets, and made like they were kissing each other, noises and all. "It's not like he'll hate your guts."   
  
Soldier frowned.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that night when everyone was gathered into the common room, Soldier thought about his earlier conversation with Demoman and considered that maybe the explosives expert was right. He couldn't keep making assumptions. Medic was a blunt man, surely if he was making fun of him, he'd be able to pick up on it.  
  
Soldier was stuck in the middle of the couch, Medic and Demoman on either side of him. Usually he and Demoman would be banished to the floor, but Engineer and Heavy were stuck washing dishes tonight, and their spots on the couch were up for grabs.  
  
Medic was already there, leaning against the armrest, and Demoman had taken the opposite armrest which left only the space in the middle, which Soldier took. He looked a bit enviously at Sniper, who'd been the first one in the room therefore got the armchair.  
  
"Okay, everybody shut up! My show's on in five minutes!” Scout was sat on the floor way too close to the TV, ready to kill if anyone so much as considered turning the knob away from the new episode of _Welcome Back, Kotter._  
  
Soldier didn't exactly see the appeal of the show, but watched anyway since he had nothing else to do on Tuesday nights. Plus, old episodes of _Gilligan's Island_ and _Hogan's Heroes_ always played after.  
  
"Yes, because all of us adults will just bow down to a child's authority," Spy replied sarcastically from his pretentious chaise lounge, nudging Scout in the back with his foot.  
  
Scout turned around and scowled. "Oh, up your nose with a rubber hose, Spy."  
  
"I know you are referencing your program," Medic interrupted, wiping his glasses with his shirt. "But a more effective and correct medical procedure would _actually_ be to put the hose up his-"  
  
"That's enough!" Spy interrupted as the team burst into a fit of giggles, Medic's cackle shining through all of them.  
  
Or maybe Soldier zeroed in on it.  
  
"Yeah, shove it up your ass, Spy!" Scout laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Now everyone shush! This is a bigger deal than _Star Trek_ reruns, this episode is brand new!"  
  
" _Star Trek_ is just as important as your dumb show," Pyro mumbled under their breath, tempted to flick Scout on the ear for that.  
  
Despite what Spy had said, everyone did settle even if it wasn't directly at Scout's request. There was some quiet chatter, but nothing loud enough to distract those paying attention to the Sweathogs onscreen.  
  
"I didn't see much of you today, Schatz," Medic whispered to Soldier. "Watching the kids?" He gestured to Pyro and Scout.  
  
Soldier chuckled. "Someone has to," he said as quietly as he could manage.  
  
"Ugh," Medic leaned against Soldier's shoulder dramatically. "Engineer made me guard his Sentry while he set up that dispenser," he complained. "Be honest with me; do I look like someone who who can defend on my own?"  
  
"Negatory," Soldier replied, maybe a little too quickly. "I doubt you would be able to fight off a rocket launcher."  
  
"Thank you!" Medic gestured with his hands for emphasis. "I tried to tell him that, but he was already out the door."  
  
Soldier patted Medic on the back. "I'm sure you did great."  
  
Medic snorted. "Hah, yeah I was stabbed by a Spy and he took out the Sentry as I respawned."  
  
Soldier chuckled. "You should be better at picking them out by now!"  
  
"Well, I didn't expect the enemy Spy to know you call me 'sweetheart'," Medic explained. "And now he knows I call you 'Schatz'. He probably thinks we're together or something," He added with a short laugh.

What?

Together?

Like, _together_ together?  
  
"Why would he think that?" Soldier asked, honestly confused.  
  
"Why wouldn't he? With the nicknames and all,"  
  
Medic stared up at him, holding Soldier's gaze for a long time.  
  
"You _do_ know what 'Schatz' means, right?" He asked.  
  
Solder straightened himself up. "No, but since you don't call anyone else by it, I think it's obvious," he answered saltily, nudging Medic off of his shoulder.  
  
"Oh, Schatz,-"  
  
"Don't you Schatz me!" Soldier's voice was definitely not a whisper.  
  
**_"Shh!!"_**   Scout turned around, glaring at Soldier with the hatred in his gaze of a possessive child being told they have to share a toy. "You and Ma over there can argue as loud as you want when the commercials are on!"  
  
"Why are you mad at me?" Medic asked, scandalized.  
  
Scout had already turned back to the TV, hoping he didn't miss anything. "You worked him up! Now leave, or put up and shut up."  
  
Medic sighed. "Take this outside?"  
  
Soldier nodded. "Gladly."

* * *

Outside, neither could take it anymore.  
  
"Come on, Soldier. Let's talk this through, like adults," Medic tried to reason, raising his hands to show he wasn't willing to fight.  
  
Soldier clenched a fist at his side, ready to take a swing at that pretty face of Medic's, but went against it. Hold on, pretty face?

He sighed. "I don't understand, doc. Have you been being sweet with me, or have you just been insulting me to my face?" Soldier hung his head in defeat. “Just what exactly does ‘Schatz’ mean?”

Everything around them was still for a moment. No motion. No sound.  
  
Then Medic took a step forward, using a hand to tilt Soldier's head up and the other to move his helmet out of the way so he could look him in the eye.  
  
"Sweetheart," Medic pronounced the s with an unnecessary "sch" sound, and Soldier's heart skipped a beat.

Medic smiled softly. "It means sweetheart."  
  
Soldier gaped at him for a moment, having a hard time believing the doctor. "For real?" He asked. He had to be sure.  
  
Medic nodded, his expression softening into something that seemed almost welcoming. "Yes. Absolutely. I mean it."  
  
Soldier laughed, tearing up just a little bit as he rested his hands against Medic's chest. "And all this time I thought you were making fun of me."  
  
"If I were making fun of you, Soldier, you would know," Medic assured him, dropping a hand to rest it against Soldier's hip.  
  
_"Schatz."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo! One last chapter!! OUTLAW COUNTRY!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Final Countdown zazookalele version plays* 
> 
> It only took me over a week to update. Uh, this chapter was added on literally because there was almost 4000 words BUT NOT A SINGLE KISS YET. Of course, I needed to change that. So this chapter is literally all fluff. That's all it is. Probably also why it's shorter than all the others ^^;
> 
> This takes place about a week or so after the last chapter.

The team had succeeded capturing the control points that day, after a tough and damn close match. They'd obliterated the other side completely right near the end, establishing their dominance out on the field. They stood on the last point, some firing triumphant rounds into the sky and others laughing, screeching, and dancing like idiots.  
  
Soldier gave a few high-fives and rocket jumped once or twice across the spot excitedly before peering through the crowd of his teammates, looking for Medic.  
  
A startled yelp caught his attention and he spotted him. Medic was being spun around up off the ground by Heavy, looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, his hands grabbing onto Heavy's arms for dear life.

Heavy eventually let him down to go join some of the others forming a growing conga line, leaving a dizzy Medic to stumble gracelessly as the world continued to spin around him.  
  
Soldier ran up to him, eager to help him straighten up. "C'mere, sweetheart," he chuckled, wrapping his arms around Medic's waist and pulling him into a tight embrace.

Medic took a moment to let everything blur back into place, his eyes finally focusing on Soldier. "Thank you, schatz." He smiled sweetly, returning the embrace.  
  
"No problem!" Soldier said cheerily as he slid a hand up Medic's back, pulling him down roughly to press a celebratory kiss to his lips.  
  
Medic let out a small 'Meep!' sound in surprise, eyes shooting open. "Sch-schatz!" Medic stuttered, pulling away.  
  
"What?" Soldier asked, pulling Medic back in to kiss him on the nose. "Something wrong?" He teased.  
  
Medic bit his lip, looking down as a dark blush crept across his cheeks. "Everybody's here..."   
  
Soldier laughed. "Nobody's paying attention," he said, shooting a look at the conga line that had started as it trailed over the corpses of the other team they'd left in their wake.  
  
"But what if we _draw_ their attention?" Medic looked back up. "What will they say? We can't pull the 'joke' card after..." He moved Soldier's helmet out of the way to make eye contact. "They see us _kissing_."  
  
Soldier couldn't argue there. They were past the point of just guys being dudes.  
  
They were dudes being gay.  
  
He smiled softly, his heart fluttering as he held Medic's gaze. "Well," Soldier started, resting a hand on top of Medic's. "We _could_ always call doctor-patient confidentiality. Nobody can disprove that!" He declared proudly.

Medic nodded as he processed what Soldier had said. "That's actually... Perfect!" His eyes lit up as he spoke, and Soldier went in for another kiss without the slightest bit of hesitation.

"They can't call us on that," Medic cackled as they separated. "We could be telling the truth, for all they know!"  
  
Soldier's smile widened, chuckling along with Medic. "And if they press further, we kill them!"  
  
"No no," Medic said lowly. "We plot the specifications of their deaths in private, and we don't carry them out until the respawns are shut down," he explained as if he'd considered it before. "Then they won't come back even _more_ suspicious!"  
  
"Hah! Good thinking like that is why I'm happy to call you sweetheart!" Soldier beamed, resting his forehead against Medic's.

Medic briefly glanced away bashfully. "Only because I have you, schatz, to bounce these thoughts off of."

They stood, still in the embrace as the sun began to dip down below the horizon, bathing the desert battleground in a soft golden hue. Though beautiful, it indicated that they had been standing there like saps for a bit longer than either had originally intended.

Soldier couldn't help it, he still had a hard time believing that his little habit had turned into something so much more than he ever imagined.

Reluctantly, He released his grip on Medic. "We should catch up with the rest of the team, before they end up leaving us behind!" Soldier took one of his hands into his own.

"Yes, we don't want that to happen," Medic agreed, pressing a small kiss to Soldier's hand before entwining their fingers.

"C'mon, hurry up!" Soldier swung their arms a bit as he lead Medic back to the RED base, the two of them following the conga line into the sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, we must end our tale and part ways. Not for too long, though, because I'm on a TF2 kick and I've got plenty of ideas I just need to develop into complete stories. 
> 
> Sorry if anyone was a bit out of character, I toned down everyone's crazy just a little bit because I didn't want any of the characters to be one-note or walking stereotypes. (It's also why Sniper, Heavy, Engineer, and Pyro didn't really do all that much.) 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! =)


End file.
